


Picky

by QQI25



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Mentions of self-harm, Queerplatonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 08:50:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14328900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QQI25/pseuds/QQI25
Summary: Wade keeps picking at his skin until it bleeds, and Peter doesn't like it. He decides to do something about it.Based off an ask on symbiote-spideypool on tumblr





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is mostly un-edited, so tell me if u spot any mistakes! i've rly gotta work on my senior proj lmao

Peter and Wade had been around each other so long that they’d grown almost completely comfortable with and around each other. They knew each other’s civilian names, they hung out at Peter’s place, they hung out outside of patrol. Wade came around with _out_ his suit more often than not, and it made Peter happy. That meant that Wade trusted him, that Wade felt more confident. But it also meant another thing, something that Wade hadn’t always done because he’d had his suit. He picked at his skin. Like, a lot. Like, until it started bleeding. 

The first time it happened, they’d finished eating. Wade was probably bored, his fingers restless, because they went to his arm and started scratching and picking.

“Wade,” Peter’d said. “You’re bleeding.”

“Huh? Oh. I guess I am,” Wade’d noted absently. His fingers went right back to scratching and picking, just at a different spot. 

\--- 

Then, Peter’d tried slapping his hand away whenever he did it. Saying it _ob_ viously didn’t do jackshit.

“What are you doing, Pete?” Wade had asked amusedly.

“You’re scratching and picking at your skin again!”

“Oh. I guess I am. Don’t worry. It heals fast.” Wade had waited longer before picking his skin again. 

After that, Peter took to slapping Wade’s hand away. It stopped Wade longer than saying anything had. 

\---

One day, he’d been walking through the park. The weather was nice, and it wasn’t too far of a walk from where he had been to where he wanted to go. He saw a parent pushing their kid in one of those strollers where the baby was facing the parent. The baby had those mitts that babies often wore to stop picking at their skin. The baby _had those mitts that babies often wore to stop picking at their skin._ And that was when his next grand idea came to him. He’d buy mitts for Wade! Sure, he liked that Wade was confident enough to go around Peter’s apartment without his suit, but gloveless hands? They seemed to be doing more harm than good. Peter was _sure_ insecurity about his body factored into the causes _some_ where. 

So the next time that Wade was picking his skin, Peter pulled out the mitts he’d bought and slipped them on Wade’s hands.

“Pete. What’s this?” Wade was probably the most bewildered Peter had ever heard him. 

“Babies wear them to stop picking at their skin, and I think they’re gonna help you,” Peter had exclaimed triumphantly. 

It certainly worked. Whenever Wade entered Peter’s apartment, he put them on and kept them on unless he was eating. But his shoulders were also slumped. He was less happy. He started wearing long sleeves and sweatpants and socks when he went over to Peter’s place. One day, he even wore his _mask_ over. 

“Wade, what’s up? Why are you wearing your mask?” 

“I’m not stupid, Spidey,” Wade had mumbled. “I can tell when people don’t wanna see my skin.”

“What? No, Wade! I just - I didn’t like that you picked at your skin.”

“But I told you. I told you it heals.” 

“It’s . . . Wade, it’s a form of self-harm, and I don’t like it. I don’t _want_ you to do that, and I went about it the wrong way. I’m sorry I made you think I was failing to subtly tell you I didn’t like your skin. It’s not true, Wade. I promise you. You’re my best friend, dude, and that means I love _all_ of you, not just the parts that society would like. Y’know, fuck society.” He took Wade’s wrists, and when Wade didn’t protest, he took the mitts off and grabbed Wade’s hands, thumbs rubbing the skin gently. After a bit, he dropped Wade’s hands to envelop Wade in a hug. Wade went boneless against him and he held him a little tighter.

\---

Wade had come over around noon and they were hungry, but the fridge didn’t have much, so they went food shopping together. 

“Here, can you hold the basket? Just tell me what we need and I’ll get it,” Peter said to Wade. After Wade took the basket, Peter held Wade’s other hand. Peter didn’t say anything, just started walking. Wade was surprised, he knew. But if both Wade’s hands were occupied, he figured Wade wouldn’t be able to pick at his skin. 

After that, Peter started holding Wade’s hand and finding something for his other hand to do. It stopped him from picking at his skin, and it made both of them happy. They were both very touch-y people, very keen on physical contact. So after patrol, they sat on rooftops, holding hands and facing each other, in silence. It was very peaceful, and very grounding.

\---

They teamed up with the Avengers, sometimes. Wade had long since stopped killing people, and taking jobs became extremely rare for him. So even though they’d had their qualms about him in the beginning, they didn’t really mind him anymore. 

Today was one of those missions. It had been a bit difficult, and Peter and Wade had come away with some injuries, albeit minor ones. When it was done, they were both more than a little tired. They both leaned their sides against a building, facing each other, and holding hands. Peter even ended up closing his eyes for a bit. 

Tony found them like that. 

“Hey, Capsicle. Come over and tell me this isn’t what it looks like,” Tony said over the comms. Peter opened his eyes, startled, and coloured.

“What - What do you mean Tony?”

“You’re . . . holding hands,” Tony responded suspiciously.

“Yes, like good friends do.” 

“You mean, like _boy_ friends do.” 

“No, I mean like good friends do. I _think_ I’d know what I mean.” 

“Hmm,” Tony said, not convinced. 

“C’mon, Spidey. Let’s go. It’s getting late,” Deadpool said, speaking up. He tugged Peter gently to a standing position and let go of his right hand so they could walk away.

 

“You’re bothered by his implication that we’re boyfriends,” Wade said suddenly as they walked back to Peter’s place. 

“Yeah, no shit,” Peter muttered. 

“Oh. Because you don’t like me.”

“No, Wade. That’s not it,” Peter said tiredly. 

“Then what other reason is there?” 

“Maybe I don’t feel like saying it.”

“Then it _is_ because you don’t like me.”

“No, Wade, it’s _not_. Can’t you just leave it alone?”

“You mean leave _you_ alone?”

“No, Wade! Fine. You wanna know? I’ll tell you. I’m so - so fucked up I can’t tell the difference between romantic love and platonic love, and it bothered me that he said that because that just didn’t _fit_ me, okay? So you can just . . . step off my ass and leave it alone.” He’d sped up as he said that, but Wade caught up in no time.

“I’m sorry, Webs. I didn’t know, and I didn’t mean to push you.”

“It’s fine. Can we just - I’m tired, and I just wanna go home and sleep it off. We can talk about it later, if you even wanna stick around after that.” Wade squeezed his hand a bit in response and they walked back to Peter’s apartment. 

They shared the bed that night, and Wade woke up with his arms around Peter and his nose pressed into his hair. He carefully extricated himself and got to work making pancakes. 

Peter woke up alone and went out into the kitchen to the smell of pancakes. 

“Hey Petey Pie,” Wade greeted cheerily. Peter had a feeling they’d be okay.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have a talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bc it's a talky-talky, it's v dialogue-heavy, so.

“We need to have a talk,” Peter said nervously after finishing his pancakes. No use beating around the bush. 

“We sure do,” Wade said in agreement. He brought their dishes to the sink and Peter sat down on the couch with one side pressed into it and his legs crossed in front of him. When Wade sat down, he mirrored Peter and grabbed Peter’s hands. For once, Wade’s thumbs were the ones rubbing Peter’s hands soothingly. 

“I’m sorry for getting mad at you and yelling. It wasn’t fair of me to take out my frustration on you, especially when I know that you have your insecurities as well.”

“You were tired, Peter. You warned me. I pushed you. It’s fine.” 

“If you say so.”

“I _do_ say so. Now. I just want you to know that you’re not fucked up. You’re not alone in not getting the difference between romantic and platonic love. I looked it up. It’s called being quoiromantic. And it also doesn’t mean you can’t have anyone. You can still have friends. And you can have a QPP, if you want.”

“Huh? What’s a QPP?”

“It stands for queerplatonic partner. It’s someone that’s _like_ a best friend, but you do things society traditionally codes as romantic, like cuddling and being roommates.”

“Don’t - don’t friends already do . . . that?” Peter asked, faltering.

“Well, yeah, but you know. It’s society and society is confusing as fuck.”

“Huh. It . . . doesn’t sound bad. Like. Maybe I’d want one. Or something. Thanks Wade. So much.”

“Yeah, of course Petey. Anyway, this might be too soon and I don’t have any concept of like, anything really, but I was wondering if you maybe . . . wantedtobemyQPP?” 

“What? Sorry that was like, really jumbled and I didn’t process it. Say it again but slower?” Peter waited patiently as Wade slowly exhaled. 

“I was wondering if you maybe wanted to be my QPP.” Peter’s face cleared.

“Oh! I mean. We’re like, kinda already there? What with the hand holding and the hang outs and the bed sharing and really domestic shit. Do you wanna move in with me?”

“Like, for real for real.”

“For real for real.”

“Yes I do oh-em-GEE Peter Pie! Do you wanna be my QPP?”

“Oh, I kinda assumed my question was an obvious enough answer. Yes. I do.” Peter grinned at Wade’s squeal and Wade hugged Peter tight. 

“Oh. One more thing. If you want, I can, like, threaten Tony and shit.” 

“As funny as that would be, it’s fine. Just, I don’t know, tell him to cut that, y’know, boyfriends bullshit out.” 

“Yessirino.” 

“Now that we’ve done all that talky-talky shit, y’wanna snuggle as QPPs?”

“Do I _ever_! Yes of course!” 

They snuggled as QPPs. It was very nice.


End file.
